The years, have I buried you.
I would not dare, I would not care.
I would console you, if I could.
What can more, be said,
without it sounding less.
Except that by our suffering is respect,
they never speak of it.
But where of by,
Desire takes charge,
light reading will grow more heavily aroused.
For you would hardly care.
Getto girls and boys.
Why try to fight it.
Standing up is when you do.
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